


something like a red string of fate

by klutzysurgeon



Category: One Piece
Genre: Adult Trafalgar Law, Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit, Canon Universe, Eventual CoraLaw, Ghost Corazon, M/M, Spirit Corazon, cursed sword
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 08:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12338853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klutzysurgeon/pseuds/klutzysurgeon
Summary: In which dying is alotmore confusing than Corazon expected, life isn'tquiteas cruel as Law expected, and sometimes a curse isn't as bad as it sounds. Kikoku!Corazon, set in the canon universe with fairly minimal canon divergence. Eventual CoraLaw, though it will be averyslow build since this is canonverse, after all.





	something like a red string of fate

Dying isn’t really what Corazon thought it would be.

Oh, it hurt. And then it didn’t, and that was the worst of it, because you know you’re gone once it stops hurting. Even before, even when… Well, no matter what, pain told him he was still alive. This time, though…

There _was_ pain, pain and cold and then nothing and he’d expected nothing ever again. The last thing he’d felt, the last thing he’d thought is that he was so sorry. Sorry to Law, sorry for lying, sorry for leaving him behind, sorry they can’t go travelling after all. He would have liked to. He really meant it.

_I really love you, you know._

And then it was almost like falling asleep.

No dreaming. No thoughts. No Heaven or Hell, no afterlife, no reincarnation. There was nothing.

Or, if there was, Corazon can’t remember it.

All he remembers is the snow and blood and pain and then–

_“Bepo, where did you find this sword? ”_

_“In their Captain's Quarters, sir! I thought you’d like it because it’s got fluff."_

_“You can’t just pick a good sword based on how_ fluffy _it is."_

_“Aw, why not, Cap’n? Everyone knows how much the big bad Trafalgar Law loves fluff– oi, oi, put the sword down, I was kidding!"_

And he doesn’t know any of the voices but he knows that name, doesn’t even question anything in his hazy panic because if Law is here then he has to protect him, pulling his way through murky unconsciousness and struggling to open his eyes, his mouth, to reach and shout, _“Law...!"_

What greets him is bright daylight and a sight his brain immediately dismisses as impossible, familiar yet completely foreign person in front of him and there’s no way this is Law. The person stands before him, alien save for the familiar hat, those odd-colored grey eyes. There’s just no way this could be law, because this is a _grown man._

“What…?”

Corazon looks around, rocked by sudden vertigo. Something’s… not right. Military training kicks in and he pushes everything else aside, analyzing his situation. He’s on a ship. It’s bright, broad daylight reflecting off the waves and there’s people around him and they should be reacting to him, _Law_ should be reacting to him, Law should be _tiny_ and yet–

A sinking feeling in his gut tells him none of this has been a dream. He’s never had any this vivid before anyway, or any so anticlimactic.

He’s standing right in front of Law and the boy– the _man_ isn’t responding at all.

It hurts.

Corazon moves his hand in front of his face and it’s not transparent as he’d half expected, but when he thuds it against a nearby barrel it doesn’t so much as rattle, completely unaffected by his action. Red catches his eye when he moves his arm back, twisting his head to look at the rope tied around his arm.

A rope which evidently won’t come off, won’t unknot, and he manages to tumble himself over trying to work it. He doesn’t make so much as a sound when he hits the planks of the ship and he tries to turn his fruit off on instinct, except.

He’s dead, isn’t he? Why would his Devil’s Fruit ability still work?

It won’t turn off. It isn’t on to begin with. He’s just not making a sound, not even when he bangs his fist on the ground as hard as he can. It still hurts despite everything and that confuses him most of all, because the dead surely don’t feel pain. _“_ What the hell happened to me…?”

Well, he can hear himself, at least. That’s… something.

“Come on, there’s nothing much left here.”

Law’s voice draws his attention and he snaps his head up, drawn to the sound. His voice is so much deeper now, he’s so much taller and–

“You’re _cured,”_ Corazon breathes in wonder. There’s no splotches on his skin, no unhealthy pallor. Those bags under his eyes are concerning, but… well, they’re not deadly. He’s alive. He grew up. Corazon blinks away tears, standing to get a better look at him.

He’s moving away though, moving onto some other ship and he hands a sword to someone, the red string wrapped around its sheathe drawing Corazon’s attention before the world abruptly blacks out on him.

 

\-----

 

When he wakes up again, Law is fighting someone and Corazon immediately launches into a panic. He doesn’t have a weapon, though, his hand uselessly patting where the hidden holster _should_ be. Even the dagger is gone and he curses himself before the situation registers–

He’s… dead, probably. He’s fairly certain he is, at least.

Corazon stares uselessly at the enemy and stands in front of Law, body tense in anticipation of the bullet that… passes right through him. He whirls in horror at the thought of it piercing Law– _“Shambles”_ – but there _is_ no bullet, just a pebble that falls harmlessly in front of him. What…?

Corazon takes a good look around finally, notices the blue sphere around them and realization dawns slowly. The Op-Op fruit. So Law really did learn to use it… That must be why he’s cured. Corazon’s shoulders sag with relief, a drop of his guard unfitting for a battle but he’s already probably dead anyway and just so _happy._

That line of thought leads him to the more important one: why and how is he even here?

He watches Law fight, takes note of the boy’s skills even as his mind races. So ghosts are a thing. That fact he quietly shoves to the back of his mind, unwilling to deal with all those unknown possibilities right now. He’s a ghost. That’s a fact. He knows he died– knows Doffy…

_When did Law learn how to use a sword?_

Well. It’s not like he didn’t expect the end. He knew, perhaps better than anyone, what Doffy would do to him. He’d accepted that.

Why he’s only appeared now, though, _years_ later…

_Oh goodness are those tattoos_

He’s not exactly trying to look a gift horse in the mouth, but it’s hard to see the point of it. No one can even see or hear him, he can’t interact with or _help_ Law, can only stand and watch him fight.

The sword glints in Law’s hand and Corazon stares at the string on his arm. He's still got his coat on, noticing for the first time the odd marks on his shirt. He’s sure he… died, in his heart patterned shirt but there’s pluses on it now, a random assortment of intersecting lines that look just like the marks on the sheathe and oh. Oh.

Oh, no.

“Damn it Law, don’t tell me you got a cursed sword…” Corazon mumbles to himself, creeping closer to see. He gets too close and Law swipes a hand _through_ him in a gesture and he shivers, feeling an odd chill of distortion. Law seems to falter as well, technique stalling before he recovers and Corazon immediately scrambles back, eyes wide.

Did Law feel that? Feel him?

He wants to try again but if he messes up Law’s concentration in battle… Corazon glances at the enemies, the ones shooting at Law and freezes, staring.

Marines. They’re Marines. He’d spent so long staring at Law he’d overlooked his clothes, a symbol plastered on gaudy yellow hoodie. It’s not a pirate skull but a Jolly Roger nonetheless, smiley face aimlessly grinning at the world and oh, you’re kidding. You’re kidding. “Not only did you go and get tattoos, but you became a _pirate?!_ Law!”

He doesn’t get a response, though he hadn’t expected to in the first place. The symbol looks so much like the Donquixote Pirates he doesn’t know what to make of it. All he can do is watch as the Marines are swiftly beaten, Law’s powers making easy work of them.

_How old is he now…?_

Law doesn’t use the sword very much, his call of _Shambles_ doing most of the work and Corazon allows himself to be distracted, gazing around the ship they’re on. A standard Marine vessel, though the strangest fact is that he doesn’t see any other pirates. “Don’t tell me you’re still so antisocial you don’t even have crewmates?” Corazon mumbles to himself, shaking his head.

It doesn’t take long for Law to emerge as the clear victor, the Marines lying quite literally in pieces around him and Corazon tries not to think about the logistics of that too much. None of them are bleeding and they all seem fine so he’s just not going to dwell on that. He has more important things to worry about, like the fact Law still can’t seem to see him or the submarine he’s boarding.

Submarine?

“...Law,” Corazon deadpans. It’s a gaudy bright yellow like his hoodie and he can’t once remember the boy taking a liking to that color but he must have at some point. “I thought you liked grey… Grey was nice… Though, maybe I can’t speak on appearances…”

Now that he thinks about it, he’s not sure if he’s still wearing his makeup. Or if he can see his reflection at all, for that matter. Don’t ghosts not show up? Or is that vampires…?

_Oh thank goodness there’s other people here_

Corazon stands off to the side as he watches a man in a jumpsuit approach, wary of bumping into or going through anyone again. “Find anything good, Captain?”

“I didn’t bother wasting time looting,” Law says. “Is the course still set?”

“Bepo said we’re ready to leave any time–” The winter-hatted man says, the end of his sentence nearly interrupted and continued by a red-headed man. “But are you sure? They might have had cool loot!”

“We’re heading down again.” Law’s tone is as flat as his gaze and Corazon almost wants to smack him– such a rude little brat still! That’s no way to talk to people even if you are the Captain.

...Wait, wait. The Captain?!

The two deflate, heads held low. “Aye, Captain,” they mumble in unison. Corazon doesn’t miss the twitch of Law’s mouth, a chuckle disguised as a cough as he heads through one of the doors, Corazon at his heels. It pressure-seals behind them and Corazon can only stare down the hallway, hanging lanterns and sunlight through the windows illuminating the path.

Law traces a clearly familiar path through, heading through another door to what Corazon assumes are his quarters. The aesthetic in the room isn’t yellow, at least, aside from the painted metal walls of the submarine. Most of the furniture is simple: black sheets on a small bed, books and papers on a plain brown desk.

There’s a million questions Corazon wants to ask– not that he knows _how_ – but he doesn’t even get a chance to start figuring that out as Law sets the sword against the wall beside the bed and Corazon feels a wave of dizziness, blackness tugging at the edges of his vision.

Because Law set the sword down, Corazon thinks. Cursed sword or whatever it is, it’s clear his presence is linked to it and linked to Law. He tries to focus, tries to stay awake but it feels like exhaustion dragging him down and he can’t stay present, unsteady on his feet. The last thing he sees is Law sitting at his desk, head in his hands and Corazon reaches, hand held out–

And he falls.

 

\-----

 

“Oh, I am _not_ enjoying this trend,” Corazon mutters to himself, awake again only to find Law being shot at once more. The life of a pirate, he assumes, but not good for his heart– or is it even beating anymore?

He holds two fingers to his pulse and finds a beat, faster than normal but unmistakably there. He’s not sure if he expected to find one or not but it is what it is, attention returning to Law, watching the way he fights. _Room_ and _Shambles_ and _Takt,_ all commands Corazon has never heard before but Law implements them easily, hand moving in fluid gestures. Devil Fruits are really something, the Ope Ope’s power easy to see in the fight before him– if it can even be called that with how one-sided it clearly is.

Half of him is a little annoyed– really, he knows recruits are never that good, and sure, he wasn’t the best at the start either, but are Marines really so easily beaten these days?– and the other half is bursting with pride at seeing how much Law has grown, how much stronger he’s gotten.

Corazon watches as crewmates approach shortly after, a few with stains– blood?– on their jumpsuits. “Did you take care of them?” Law questions, straight to the point as he rests the sheathed sword against his shoulder. It’s pretty tall, Corazon thinks, and can’t help but consider his own height. How high up does Law come to him now…? Far past his knees like he used to, surely. It looks like he might reach his chest, just barely.

A cheerful “Aye, Captain!” derails that train of thought and Corazon glances over, jaw dropping open at the sight.

“Bear?!”

He shouts before he can stop himself, belatedly realizing it doesn’t matter even if he does scream. Even so, he thinks his shriek was justified– there’s a bear standing there, orange jumpsuit against white fur and Law… Law _really_ leads an interesting life. With interesting color choices.

“Good work.” Law nods, a sharp and short approval. Corazon peers closer at his face now that he’s standing still for once, reaching out a hand before he stops himself. The same hat he had before? It does look a little threadbare, fluffy rim torn in some places. He leans in and sees the gold earrings behind a tuft of black hair, two piercings in each ear and has to suppress a sigh. Law really went for the whole package, didn’t he?

How long has it been, for so much to have changed?

Corazon barely resists the urge to stomp his foot childishly, frustrated. He can’t ask any of these questions, can’t _do_ anything. He turns away from Law only to realize more crewmates have approached, half their conversation lost while he was distracted. “...stuff, but nothing fancy. What a letdown.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Law dismisses. “I found what I was looking for, let’s go.”

They’re not on a ship this time, Corazon realizes. His heart sinks when he recognizes it as a Marine base, probably not one he’s ever been in but familiar nonetheless. “A pirate, really,” Corazon frets. “You aren’t killing people, are you, Law…?”

He crouches down to look at the unconscious Marines, a few still in pieces and he pokes curiously at a severed arm, trying not to grimace. There’s no blood so it’s fine, he tells himself. Like dolls, almost, but that’s even creepier and he does grimace, trying not to think about it too hard. There’s no response to his touch and the man beside the arm is out cold, but still breathing.

All of them, he thinks, are still breathing, so that’s fine then. Law isn’t a murderer. Of course not.

Law is, however, leaving, and Corazon has to scramble down the hallway to catch up. He inevitably trips in his haste, bumping into Law’s back and the pirate stumbles forward, whirling around with some sort of blue ring hanging suspended from his hand. Corazon looks up to see Law scanning the hallway for threats, brow furrowing when he doesn’t see anything.

“Captain?” the bear questions, his crew halting in their steps when they realize their captain has stopped walking.

“...Nothing, Bepo. I thought I felt something,” Law answers, dissipating the blue ring and adjusting his hat. Corazon holds his breath when those grey eyes scan where he lays on the ground, feels his hopes shatter when Law looks away without any signs that he was seen at all. “But I don’t see anyone left conscious. If anyone is left, that’s all the more reason to leave now.”

Corazon slowly drags himself off the wood flooring, following after Law with heavy footsteps. Dead. Dead, dead, dead, he repeats to himself. His fingers itch for a cigarette but he doesn’t have his pack anyway. The dead don’t smoke. The dead don’t seem to do _anything_ and he again wonders why he’s even here.

It’s wonderful knowing Law lived but it’s heart-wrenching not getting to reach out and pull him into a hug, to cry about it, to scold him for half of what he’s seen so far. He doesn’t even want to think about the rest– oh _please_ don’t say Law took up smoking too– and his steps falter as his brother crosses his mind, similar smiley face on Law’s clothes haunting him.

No. No, he doesn’t particularly want to think about that, either. Priorities, he thinks. Figuring out what to do first is most important. What _can_ he do like this? He can’t touch anyone, can’t speak to anyone…

Corazon easily overtakes Law’s stride, walking in front of him and making silly faces at the boy. He sticks his tongue out and wiggles his fingers, makes double peace signs and holds his eyes wide open, making himself as ridiculous as he can be. He sighs when Law doesn’t respond in the slightest, hanging his head in defeat. “You definitely can’t see me,” he mumbles. “You always yelled at me for being too goofy, you’d be shouting at me for sure. I _did_ take things seriously, you know,” he huffs. “I’m taking it seriously right now! I just... don’t know what to do…”

Saying it out loud makes it too real, the weight of the situation settling down on him. Dead is one thing, but this is something else entirely. A ghost, maybe. Some kind of spirit. He supposes it’s not too surprising if he’s clinging to Law– the boy had been his last thoughts, his motivation for clinging to life even knowing he was going to die. And a cursed sword is an easy target for spirits…

Corazon gets a better look at the sword now, eyeing it from where Law holds it against his shoulder as he walks. The pattern matches his shirt, red rope identical to the one on his arm but he can’t figure out what that means, reaching his hand out before he’s really thought through the action. He brushes against the hilt and feels a jolt from the touch, recoiling instantly and ending up falling into one of Law’s crewmates.

He goes right through them and lands on the floor with a shudder, unpleasant feeling leaving him disoriented. The woman he fell through shows no sign of reacting but he’s too dazed to look too closely, fingertips still tingling where he’d touched the sword. “Wh…” Corazon wets his dry lips to speak, metallic tang in his mouth. “What was that…?”

Unsurprisingly, there’s no one to answer his question. That one nor any of the others he has. In the end, he can only pick himself off the floor again and follow after Law, resigning himself to passing out again when the sword is put away. No wonder he only ever sees Law in battle if he’s only conscious when Law uses the sword. He wonders what this Law is like at other times, if he still likes fish, if he still loses himself in books, if he still...

If he still wakes up crying, alone and thrashing in bed, reliving nightmares Corazon could never see but could picture well enough. It’s not as if the dreams could ever be chased away entirely but he knows that having someone there to ground you is an incredible help, distant memories of Sengoku crouched beside his bed tugging at his heartstrings now.

The sword goes against the wall and Corazon frowns, struggling. He doesn’t want to leave again. He can’t speak, can’t touch– he at least wants to watch over Law properly. Can’t he even have that much? There has to be a _reason_ for being here, there’s no other explanation, but his vision begins to swim as soon as Law props the sword against the wall beside his desk.

Corazon does finally stomp his foot childishly, agitated that he can’t do more. He watches Law for as long as he can, sees him sit on the edge of the small bed and fall backwards onto it, tugging his hat down over his face. Is he sad? Or just tired? Corazon can’t help himself, moving forward to try and find out, to offer whatever comfort he can and he stumbles, falling into nearly-familiar unconsciousness once again.

 

Against the wall, Kikoku clatters to the floor.

**Author's Note:**

> hello and welcome to my most massive WIP yet. i've never attempted canonverse before, so please wish me good luck and frequent updates ♡


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